Angel of Vengeance
by gypsy.starr.3
Summary: Nurichell tapped a blue converse against the concrete floor in time with the clicking second hand of the dollar store clock on the dark wooden table beside her. Across from her sat a man, not much older then a boy, his back against a white wash board and his hands held over himself in a wide Y, strips of metal and screws holding him the
1. The Angel

Nurichell tapped a blue converse against the concrete floor in time with the clicking second hand of the dollar store clock on the dark wooden table beside her. Across from her sat a man, not much older then a boy, his back against a white wash board and his hands held over himself in a wide Y, strips of metal and screws holding him there. An IV was dripping a light pink liquid into his vain just above the bend in his elbow, and just below a tattoo of a skull with bat wings and wide human-like eyes. His legs were tied at the knees and ankles to bars in the floor, spread at the same angle of his arms leaving him in a sort of bent spread where no one limb touched another. His steel toed black boots had been removed and placed just to his left along with his socks, tshirt, jacket, and jeans, leaving only dark green plaid boxers to protect him from the cold floor. The man did not yet realize his fate, and the drugs feed to him at a house party just a few hours before had yet to wear off. His head hung limply to the side, long black hair covering most of his face, and though his dark distant eyes were open, they stared fixed and unseeing into his chest. Just to his right a large black vat of hot coals sat of an bed of embers, keeping the room well above the weather outside, where snow softly drifted, covering any sign that the two were even there at all. A deep chesty cough and a few small grunts from the man told Nurischell it wouldn't be long before he would be aware of exactly why he was so cold and want to know how he had gotten there. She considered whether she should tell him when he asked, knowing no one was going to believe a word he said once he left this place. Standing from her metal folding chair, the back of her tattered and sewn dark skirt falling behind her like the tail of a bird, giving background for her warn red fishnets. She pulled on a pair of blue latex gloves over her small pale hands before picking up a small vile of light blue liquid from a box of ten and uncapping one of the many needles that lay beside it. Taking her time, she filled the needle halfway and walked up to the mans IV. He shook his head slightly and tried to raise it, but the effort left him breathing hard and he let it fall back to his chest. Pushing the new drug into his system, she turned and sat back down, counting under her breath. When she got to about 67 the man looked up though glazed eyes as his heart raced the liquid to his brain. He tried to focus on the foggy image of the person in front of him, but the colors seemed too bright to be real and pulled out past where they should have been. "Who... who are you?" He grumbled, his voice felt thick and the sound of it shocked him, not remembering he had even said it.

"Oh me?" Nurischell placed a still gloved hand lightly under her neck, like someone who was genuinely surprised that he had asked her such a question, though her response was dripping in sarcasm. She lifted her hands to just above her head and looked dead at the man with stark blue eyes. "I... am Vengeance." His eyes widened as the image became sharper and a scream stuck in his throat as huge black wings sprouted from the woman's back and stretched nearly ten feet above her head. Her eyes glowed beams of blue light as the room around him darkened and filled with a rolling black fog, and his scream did escape and her up turned hands turned unto ling talons and her piercing laugh echoed throughout the room. "If someone would hear you, Kyle Zachman," Her voice sounded two toned to his ears, both shrill and deep, "then we would be somewhere else." A half crooked smile spread across her face as realization and fear washed over his. He pulled against his restraints, but all held, and Nurischell took a few steps closer. "You have lived a life few would be willing to stand against. You cause pain with no fear of harm to yourself, you suck the very life from those around you until they hand on your every word like a god. You will go to any length to get what you want, no matter who has to be hurt or pushed away to get you to it." She slowly walked over to the coals and picked one out with a pair of tongs. "Now I have come to restore the balance, to take the things that have given you power that wasn't yours." With her free hand she forced open his jaw, the drugs still making him to weak to put up much of a fight. He tried to struggle against her, his eyes not letting him know what was going on beyond a blur of black feathers and the gleaming blue lights. She dropped the coal into his mouth and held his jaw shut, the burning of his tongue sending enough pain to his brain to attempt to spur action, but his screams were muffled as the back of his throat burned.


	2. The Doctor

Sound echoed softly through the white brick halls of Mercyville General Hospital as hundreds of doctors, surgeons, and patients shuffled back and forth to their rooms and stations. waiting just outside the doors on the snowy rooftop with a team of four other doctors waiting for the Medivac helicopter to arrive, knowing that what was coming was bad but not sure how bad. Dr. Throughwood pushed her hands deep into her lab coat, trying to coax a little warmth into her numb fingers as the others paced and whispered.  
"You think he'll be as bad as John?"  
"Nothing could be as bad as John.:  
"It's the third like this this month."  
"You think it's serial?"  
"All I know is it ain't stoppin." they heard the low hum long before they saw it, a light in the air through the falling snow. All conversation stopped and they lined up waiting for what they knew only meant a very long night. As the bulky machine touched down all that could be seen of the patient as the bed was pulled out were bandages and blood. The EMT updated the team in quick shouts over the roar of the blades."Male. Mid Twenties. Multiple fractures and brakes. Multiple 3rd degree burns. Multiple cuts. Missing genitals. Expect the worst, be surprised." The woman nodded as the bed was pulled inside. She had never regretted working at the hospital, but what they had seen over the past month has shook her team to the core. The first had been a man named Shawn, who had been babbling something about angels and how sorry he was ever since he was medivaced in. Each finger was broken at the knuckle and was stapled to the back of his hands, his eyes had been drained and filled with his own semen, the word Pedo was carved into his penis and the word Vengeance was tattooed repetitively over every inch of skin. It had taken over four days for him to stop hallucinating from the drugs, and he hadn't slept since he arrived Then, a week to the day after Shawn, the call came in that had the helicopter crew shocked beyond words. Hundreds of Exacto knife blades had been pushed deep into the mans body until they stuck into bone, a V had been cut out of his tongue, every tooth had been pulled, and they thought his eyes had just simply been removed. Some of the blades had been in so long they had healed into his body, and in the over 18 hours of surgery it took to removed them, they removed two X shaped stitches from his scrotum- and found his eyes. The doctors named him John doe, because he had yet to be able to speak, and the muscle damage was so extensive he couldn't move to write, so no one know who he was, and no one had come saying they knew him. Now, exactly eight days after John, and older woman was walking home from church when she decided to take a short-cut through a back alley. On her final turn onto her street, she found a man bloody and unconscious propped up against a dumpster. He had a piece of paper with the word Kyle in blood pinned to his shirt, so it was assumed that was his name, though no one knew for sure. When they assessed him at the hospital they realized that he might not make it though the night, and even if he did he would be unable to move or speak for the rest of his life. Every muscle from his knees down and he elbows out had been removed though tiny cuts at each joint, and every bone in his hands and feet had been crushed. Large patches of skin had been removed and cling wrap was sewn in their place, every nail had been pulled, his mouth and throat were completely burned beyond repair, his hair burned off his head, his entire genitals were found in pieces once he began throwing up, "King of the Dammed" was branded into his chest and Vengeance was carved into his back. The amount of hallucinogens in his system would have killed a horse, and he would try to scream when he was left alone, though it only sounded like heavy breathing. Every doctor passed by his room with a mixture of pity and disgust, and most couldn't spend much time by him without feeling sick. Dr. Throughwood had made it her job to look after the "victims of Vengeance" as they had come to be called, and when her shift was over there was only one nurse who was willing to take over."I wish they would catch this guy." The woman said after the doctor introduced her to Kyle. Sympathy rang in her voice and sadness showed in her green eyes as she looked him over. Throughwood handed her the clip board and nodded, never having been much for words.

"I try to read to them but they're a pretty quiet group. Kyle has surgery in the morning, but I should be back after that."

The nurse smiled softly, "I brought a couple books, that's a good idea. You have a good day." Another nod from the doctor and they parted ways. Rubbing her eyes under her glasses, she knew it was time to go home and get some needed sleep.


	3. The Girlfriend

An eerie echo ricocheted off the tin roof and into the near empty room as red lips quietly padded out the last few lines of song, a high-shine gloss making them stick ever so lightly every time they came together. Near paper white skin only exaggerated the crystal blue of her eyes as they reflected the dancing miniature of a flame. Her light blond hair lay softly on her shoulder blades with slanting bangs coming close to the edge of one eye, making her whole image look softer and young, like a woman in her early twenties. A red velvet dress hugged her frame and focused attention to her hip revealed by the long split up one side. Her face stayed a solid calm in heavy contrast to her mind, that twisted and contorted through ugly images of the man in front of her. He sat in her favorite position, arms bound above his head and legs spread wide, his head slumped to the side in sleep. Blood lightly trailed off his upper arms and into a growing pool by his side, 23 deep lines showing muscle and bone lay spaced in a perfectionists way almost down to his elbow where the metal blades stuck out from his skin. The pain had proved to be too much for his mind, giving out while his body beat on. It wouldn't be long before he came to again, Nurischell knew, and the dark wood table beside her was almost covered in a pile of shinning metal in preparation.  
"Shelly? You look lost, is everything okay?" A man leaned over the the back of the leather lazy-boy chair over his girlfriend, as she stared distantly into the fireplace.  
"I'm alright Owen. Just thinking about the patient we got in today." The man nodded, knowing that they had been on her mind a lot lately.  
"Anything a glass of wine can help?" Her gentle smile mirrored his, and he softly padded off to get two glasses of the red they had stored in the fridge. He returned carrying two wide mouth glasses about half full of the crimson liquid, handing one to his beautiful woman. He took a seat on the couch to her left, patiently waiting for her to start conversation. Shelly stared into the glass, watching the wine swirl against the crystal clear glass, thinking of the puddle beside the man, back in her secret place.


End file.
